Dean rolled his eyes, but some of the tightness in his chest had loosened.
The High Matron turned toward the temple doors and gestured inside. "Shall we begin with the public hall? It is the least alarming part of the building, which makes it a decent place to start."
Dean looked at Arion.
Arion looked back at him, the question silent in his eyes.
Dean hated that he asked without asking.
It gave Dean no excuse to be dramatic.
"Fine," Dean said. "But if anyone chants, I am leaving."
"No chanting," Matron Ilara promised.
"No incense?"
"No incense."
"No sacred oils?"
"Only in the gift shop, and even there I have doubts about the pricing."
Dean paused.
Then looked at Arion. "She has a gift shop."
Arion's mouth twitched. "Most temples do."
"That is suspiciously modern."
"It funds restoration work," the High Matron said. "And, occasionally, my war against ugly commemorative candles."
Dean stared at her with admiration.
